Maraudon Betrayal
by Matosawitko
Summary: A band of adventurers explores the caverns of Maraudon. However, the sudden disappearance of a key party member leaves them stranded in mortal danger, deep below ground.


It was evening when our band of adventurers finally gained the entrance to Maraudon. The twilight made it easier to slip past the centaur as we worked our way up the valley, but it was also far too easy to blunder into trouble. Although we had encountered no real problems, it was only after we had moved beyond the cave entrance that we dared to pause for a breather. The centaur may consider the cave too holy to enter under normal circumstances, but we held no illusion that they might ignore our presence there.

It amazed me that such a barren and blasted land as Desolace could contain the lovely expanse of Maraudon. Outside, the wind hurried across the barren hills and swirled among the dried bones of beasts long dead. Yet a world of deadly wonder hid just beyond the grim portal.

-----

Once well beyond the cave mouth, I lit a fire and we stopped for refreshment. As we ate, I glanced around at the other members of our party. Some of these I had known for many days or years, while others I had only met that morning in the village of Shadowprey. On each face I noted the same resolve that lit my own. This was a grand adventure, yes, but it also promised to be a grim test of our minds and bodies.

The only exception was the face of Arumos, the priest we had hired in Shadowprey. He had a distracted look, as though he were already winging his way toward the auction house in Thunder Bluff to spend his earnings. I breathed a prayer to Mu'sha that he would maintain his commitment until the end of battle.

I noted with a quiet chuckle that we were a truly rag-tag group. To my left, dining on a large hunk of crusty bread and Darnassian Bleu, sat my good friend and guild-mate Caprolan. Over the years we had shared many adventures all over Azeroth. We made an unusual pair – he a slight blood-elf mage, while I towered over him as a tauren druid.

I leaned toward him and muttered, "Hey, Cap, you remember that time we jumped down the cliff into Dustwallow? Those spiders never knew what hit them. Heh… Good thing we made it to Brackenwall before they swarmed us completely – I'd hate to watch you die and then have to carry your body all the way back to your mother in Tranquillien." Although he shot me a dark look, I also saw the twinkle in his eyes.

Beyond Caprolan sat Arumos, the undead – sorry, "Forsaken" – priest that we had met that morning. The last member to join our party, he was also a significant key to our success. We had heard rumors of the dark beasts and demons that ranged these halls, and knew that a healer meant the difference between life and death. He had heard us asking around town for an available healer, and his price of ten gold seemed reasonable considering the risk.

I knew little of the undead other than the basic history that we learned in primary school. I knew that my tauren clan-mates usually felt more pity for them than did some other races of the Horde, but mostly the undead just made me uncomfortable. Maybe this explained my reservations. I breathed another prayer to Mu'sha, begging pardon for my previous character assessment.

That morning, Arumos had told us that he came from a small village in the north of Tirisfal Glades, just west of the Scarlet Monastery. Beyond that, none of us knew anything about him. How he came to be on this god-forsaken spit of land where Shadowprey butted up against the western ocean, almost as far from Tirisfal as one could possibly be while remaining on Azeroth, was anyone's guess.

Across from me sat our warrior, Gorran, his green face shining in the firelight. Gorran and I had met on the Shimmering Flats just a few weeks previously. Although neither of us had any technical prowess, we had cheered excitedly as the gnome and goblin racers sped around the track. We laughed uproariously when the gnome entry exploded, ducking as white-hot parts whistled past our heads at the top of the grandstand. Since that day we had shared many more adventures throughout the south of Kalimdor.

Now Gorran sat quietly, honing his sword and mumbling under his breath in Orcish. Although his words were muted, I picked up enough to tell that he was steeling himself for the physical toll he would soon endure.

To my right was the final member of our party. Lomasi was the only female in our group, and the only other tauren. She sat staring into the fire, stroking her blunderbuss with one hand and the shell of her pet tortoise, Keyato, with the other. Keyato was oblivious to the coming battle; instead, he munched happily on a biscuit.

Although we had only met Lomasi that morning in Shadowprey, we had hit it off immediately. She enjoyed light-hearted banter, and we learned in our conversation that she had mutual friends with both Gorran and myself. As well, since she was a tauren we had many childhood memories in common. She had laughed until tears came to her eyes as I described the first time I had ridden the elevator up to Thunder Bluff and nearly fainted at the rush of unfamiliar sights, sounds and smells – a swift grab by my father had protected me from the long fall back to the rolling prairie floor. Yet she had a deadly serious side as well, as the string of furs on her belt could attest – each pierced with a single bullet wound.

-----

Apparently having reached the end of his internal deliberations, Gorran leapt to his feet. "Let's go," he growled. The rest of us arose, packed up the gear that was lying around, and cast various protective spells on ourselves and one another. After smothering the fire, we started down the tunnel.

Even at these high elevations, the beauty of Maraudon was on stark display. Unlike many caves, the very walls seemed to glow with a phosphorescent light. My father once told me that the light of Mu'sha herself infused the plants and rocks of this complex of caverns. Yet there was still a chill in the air, and our breath formed thin clouds in front of us.

Before long we reached a fork in the tunnel. Here for the first time we could hear evidence of evil creatures cackling and carousing below. We paused to look at one another, and Gorran nodded toward the right-most tunnel.

I shifted into cat form and silently padded down the tunnel to the first bend. In a larger room just ahead, I could see a group of satyrs and their corruptor minions milling about. Far beyond, a tangler shambled out of sight around the next bend. These druidic creatures – elemental, demon or mortal, I could never tell – were known to infest the area but I was surprised to see one so near the surface. I quickly returned to the group and reported my findings.

Gorran nodded wordlessly and led us to the opening of the room. He signaled to Lomasi, who tossed an explosive trap into the room and then pointed out our primary target – the tallest satyr, who apparently led the group. Taking a deep breath, Gorran let out a cry of rage and burst into the room. I was hot on his heels, with Keyato skittering right behind me. Behind, Lomasi's gun barked and I heard the bullet tear over my head and strike the satyr's chest.

The group of demons turned as one, frozen in their tracks by this sudden onslaught. Caprolan quickly froze them even further with a blizzard. If the situation were not so serious I might have laughed at their suddenly blue, chattering faces.

Gorran, Keyato and I waded into the group, grinding and tearing our way toward the leader. As the other two assaulted him from the front, I dashed past to slash at him from behind. Meanwhile Lomasi and Caprolan kept up their attack from the doorway. Behind them I could see Arumos muttering incantations, green flame dancing from his fingertips as he maintained spells of healing on the three of us at the center of the melee. Though I felt teeth and claws connect with me many times, the combination of adrenaline and healing magic kept me from slowing. As soon as the leader fell we turned to his assistants.

One of the satyrs barked an order, sending a small group of the corruptors toward the ranged attackers in the doorway. However, they had not taken more than a half-dozen steps before Lomasi's trap exploded, bathing all of them in liquid fire. They screamed and died, and their partners who remained appeared to lose interest in attacking any longer. It hardly mattered, since their satyr commanders were already dead and they swiftly followed.

I realized that I had been holding my breath throughout the entire fight, although it had only lasted a moment. I had barely refilled my lungs when the tangler that I had seen down the hallway lurched through the far door. He had apparently heard – or felt – the commotion, and now waved his tree-like tendrils in rage as he ambled toward us.

He moved quickly for such a large, ungainly creature. I am not sure why, but he imprinted on me, punishing me with his branches as roots burst from the floor and entangled me like constrictors. I was unable to move or breathe as Gorran and Keyato hammered on his trunk. I could hear Lomasi's gun firing repeatedly, and saw clouds of ice pelting down from Caprolan's spells. This fight felt quite different from the previous one – I was disoriented and dizzy, spots swimming before my eyes as my bones cracked under the tremendous pressure. Just as I was sure my life was about to slip away entirely, the roots suddenly released and the tangler slumped to the floor.

I staggered back, gasping for air. I turned toward Arumos, who uttered a brief "Oh! Umm…" before casting a spell of restoration. I sat down to rest while the others looted the bodies of the slain demons. As I waited, Lomasi approached with wrath etched across her face. She sputtered in Taurahe, gesturing across the room at Arumos, "He was busy removing some sort of fancy belt from that satyr while you were about to die!"

I glanced at the others, knowing that neither Gorran or Caprolan could speak Taurahe. I wasn't sure if Arumos had caught the conversation; he seemed to be watching us, but did not otherwise show any understanding. "Well, I'm still alive so I guess that's what matters," I replied. "We will all get our fair share of loot soon enough, if the rumors about this place are true." She grunted in response, but said no more. I could tell she was not appeased.

-----

After a few moments we continued down the tunnel. We were now more cautious, as the enemies became stronger the deeper we went. The next few fights went smoothly, though both Lomasi and Caprolan whispered to me that they had spotted Arumos looting valuables from the corpses while the rest of us were in combat. I wasn't happy about his actions, but also was not sure how to confront him while we were still in the middle of the cavern.

I also found that there was still a bit of a hitch in my left arm from the earlier fight; it did not keep me from fighting, but I found myself favoring it as we went along. Mobility is life to a feral druid, so I was concerned that I might have bigger problems before we reached the end of our quest.

It was in a large vaulted crossroad between tunnels that everything fell apart. Here, large natural columns rose up to the ceiling high above. Lush glowing plants grew in the corners and around the edges of the room. However, these features also provided plenty of places for enemies to conceal themselves, and the crossing hallways promised more within short range.

Though we began the fight with only a few demons, more ran in from the side tunnels until we were certain we would be overwhelmed. Yet we continued to grind them down until only a few remained. At that moment, all of us saw Arumos run toward a corpse, snatch up a glowing helm that was clearly much too large for him to use – even if he could wear mail – and run from the room. The muffled "pop" from the hall confirmed that he had just used a scroll or item to teleport from the dungeon.

As we cleaned up the final enemies, Gorran snarled, "I'm pretty sure that I saw that little sneak _leading_ some of those monsters into the fight. I bet he hoped they would kill us all and he could claim all the loot for himself."

We stood and stared at one another for a moment. Then Caprolan summed up our situation. "So, here we are, a wyvern's-flight below ground in the middle of intensely hostile territory, and we just lost our healer. What should we do now?"

"We've planned and dreamed of this for days, so I hate to go home so soon after we started, particularly without finding the end of the dungeon. And who knows how long it will take to find another healer in Desolace. But without a healer we're just sitting ducks in here," I replied. "And, really, it's not even safe for us to go back up the tunnel – there are probably a dozen fresh squads that have replaced the ones we already killed."

Lomasi looked at me. "Mato, you're a druid. Don't you know some healing spells?"

I blinked. "Well, that's true. I'm not really equipped or practiced for it, but I might be able to keep us alive to the surface anyway. But death is a very real possibility if we – if I – fail."

"It's not like we have much choice." Caprolan shrugged. "If I've got to take the big sleep, though, I'd rather do it fighting here with the three of you than in some cushy penthouse paid for with ninja loot."

-----

As it turned out, the tunnel was more clear than we expected. It was not until we reached the first room – the one where I had nearly died – that we encountered a significant force. The group was not much larger than the squad we had met there before, but they could see the bodies of their fallen comrades and were itching for a fight.

We must have made noise coming up the tunnel, as their attack came before we could set our strategy. Gorran pushed out into the room to allow the rest of us to clear the passage doorway. We managed to take out most of the ranged attackers quickly, but there were still three satyrs and a handful of corruptors milling around Gorran. I healed him as quickly as I could, and actually thought that we might survive. Suddenly two of the satyrs broke away and attacked Caprolan and Lomasi. Cap's light armor was no match for the attack, and he took a crushing blow to the head that sent him to the floor so quickly that I was unable to heal him in time.

Keyato scurried to Lomasi's aid and together they took down the satyr that had attacked her, but the one that had attacked Caprolan shifted his attention to them and soon Keyato and Lomasi were down as well. I managed to heal Lomasi once before she fell, but to no avail.

The satyr now turned his attention to me, leaving me with a difficult choice. Should I continue healing Gorran, or try to tackle this new threat? Gorran seemed to be holding his own for the present, so I shifted into cat form and launched into battle. However, within a few seconds I realized that the satyr had lost interest in me and was headed back across the room.

Turning my attention back to Gorran, I saw that he had felled the remaining enemies around him, and was taunting my satyr toward himself. However, he was in bad shape and a single blow from the satyr felled him before I could respond. His selfless act stunned me into momentary silence, until I noticed that the satyr was on his way back across the room toward me once again.

Two surprising events occurred at once. First, my injured arm failed completely at this point, leaving me unable to shift into cat form and causing the few ranged spells I knew to fly harmlessly over the satyr's head. Second, as I felt the satyr's club crash down on my head and saw the world fade to black, a voice from the hallway shouted "Hey now, mon, don't you be doin' any more dyin' – I'mma on my way!"

-----

I knew this was death, because the world lost – well, everything that made life meaningful. Color and sound faded, and even the smell and taste of the atmosphere were gone. I looked down and could see my own body lying on the ground. Furthermore, I realized that I could see the spirits of my friends standing above their fallen bodies. We waved and gestured to one another, though our words made no sound.

A motion from the far end of the room caught my eye, and I turned to see a troll burst into the room. He took in the scene of carnage, including the lone surviving satyr that now turned in his direction. With a swift motion, flaming totems sprung up at his feet and he steeled himself for the satyr's attack. They circled and prodded at one another before coming to blows. However, the battle did not last long before the satyr lay dead at the shaman's feet.

He gathered himself and then took stock of our situation. Moving from body to body among our party, he muttered an incantation over each. I watched in astonishment as, one after another, the others disappeared from the spirit plane and leaped to their feet, fully restored.

The shaman reached me last. The process of resurrection was the most unusual experience I have ever encountered. The best explanation I can give is that I felt almost like sand running through an hourglass – funneled down to what seemed an impossible tightness, then bursting out into full life once again. I stood reveling in the feeling of fresh air rushing into my lungs, flexing my arms and legs to make sure everything was in working order. Amazingly, even the arm that had bothered me earlier now was completely restored.

We sat around a fire and listened as the troll introduced himself as Vol'gran. "I mussa just missed ya in Shadowprey dis mornin'. But I been tryin' to catch up wid ya ever since, when I heer'd who joined up wid ya. Looks like I got here just in time." He chuckled drily. "Ya know, da world of healers is pretty small. I'va heer'd of dat no-count _e'chuta_, Arumos. How he be leavin' a trail of dead adventurers behind as he profits off da loot. I'll catch up ta him one o' dese days, and teach him a ting or two abou' da sacred duty of healers."

Gorran stood. "Well, we're way behind where we should have been by now. Vol'gran, it's an honor to have you with us. Who's ready to see how deep this dirt hole leads?"

-----

_This story is a complete work of fiction. However, it is very loosely based on experiences from actual random dungeon runs in World of Warcraft. All names have been invented – not that I remember who most of my group members were, anyway – and quite a few other liberties have been taken as well._


End file.
